The Pale Fracture
We have been here for three days, and the air in the cellar has grown so thick with the scent of wet stone and old iron that it feels less like a gas we are breathing and more like a liquid we are drowning in, which is why I find myself staring at the jagged crack in the north wall, a pale fracture that runs from the floor to the ceiling like a vein of exposed bone, and I wonder if it was there...
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